


Childproofing is Very Important With Children That Were Once Lizards

by phinnia



Series: All God's Children [9]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-28 22:48:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21399892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phinnia/pseuds/phinnia
Summary: Three-three year-olds that you didn't have that morning are very wearing on a person.  They do learn fast, though.  New words and everything.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: All God's Children [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533431
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	Childproofing is Very Important With Children That Were Once Lizards

Anathema picks up the phone only to hear babbling, then 'give me that!' in what she's privately labelled 'Crowley's Irritated Voice Number Two' and then a shout. "Book Girl!"

"Yes?" She says.

"Need your help with something, got a bit of a problem. Bring Newt."

"You have a bit of a problem. And you want me to bring Newt." She sets down her coffee cup. "Does this problem involve anything diabolical?"

"Uh ... not really? No. Not properly diabolical." 

"What does that even mean, Crowley?" Anathema took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. "What does 'not properly diabolical' mean in this context?" 

"Look - oi, Terry! Get down off that bloody thing!" 

She hears the sound of a child giggling through the phone. 

"What the hell is going on, Crowley?" She asks, her brows furrowing. "Are you babysitting for someone?"

"Not really babysitting. Sort of - oh, fuck _me_ \- Eve, stop sticking your head in the loo! S'not a water bowl! Look, just get here! I'm in Mayfair, at the flat. Let yourselves in. Soon as you can, all right?"

And he hangs up.

Newt comes out of the back. "Who was that?"

"Crowley." Anathema puts down her mobile. "He seems to be in some trouble."

"Demon trouble?" Newt asks, his eyes going wide.

"No, this looks very much like human trouble." Anathema sighs, and gets her purse.

The second they go up the stairs towards Crowley's flat, they hear a crash. It sounds like a sofa toppling over.

"How the bloody shit did you just do that?" They can hear Crowley shouting all the way downstairs. "Stop jumping on the sofa!"

"What the _hell_?" Newt hisses under his breath.

"I told you." Anathema whispers back. "Human trouble." 

"Why do you have to bloody _climb everything?_ Get down off there and go watch telly!"

"No!" A very loud but very young-sounding voice says.

"Don't backchat to me, you sassy little mite!" 

"No telly!"

Anathema lets them into the flat. 

The flat is a disaster. All of Crowley's formerly meticulously arranged minimalist furniture is a mess. The sofa is indeed turned over. A boy with messy corkscrew red curls is sucking his thumb and nodding off in an armchair. A girl with long, white-blonde hair is looking over the back of the overturned sofa, her gaze fixated on the television. The television is playing something involving dogs. They are both wearing red and white striped pyjamas. A third one is sitting on top of the eagle lectern, also wearing red and white striped pyjamas. That one has messy chin-length red hair and a very set expression on its face. 

"Thank fuck, you're here." Crowley picks up the one that's sitting on top of the eagle lectern and hands them to Anathema. "Meet Terry."

"Fuck." Terry says. "Fuck telly."

Anathema chokes back a laugh and runs her fingers through the child's hair. 

"Where did the kids come from?" Newt says, taking the little blonde one down off the toppled sofa and setting it to rights.

"My mum. No, seriously. My mum did it. Bit complicated." He sighs and starts telling them a story about, of all things, _lizards_ he'd found on a planet somewhere and brought back with him.

"So where's Aziraphale?" Newt asks, after the story's been told.

"He's out getting, you know, _stuff_. For three-year olds. Mum liked that mathematical symmetry, so there are three of them, and they are three. Probably also a new car. Can't put them all in the Bentley, you know. No safety belts."

"You're not selling the Bentley?" Newt chokes.

"Bite your bloody tongue, Pulsifer. He's getting, you know, another car." He sighs and falls down on the floor next to Eve. "Probably something ridiculously safe for children. A Land Rover or a Volvo, I expect."

"What are their names?" Anathema asks, waving at the other two kids.

"Oh, the boy is Neil. The girl is Eve. Terry doesn't like boxes. Or staying on the ground. Or apparently telly. We're using singular they for Terry until they decide to come up with something."

"Fuck telly." Terry repeats, playing peek-a-boo with Anathema's hair.

"Yes, fuck telly, I think so too." Crowley picks Eve up off the floor and sits down with her on the sofa. "I used to do nannying for a bit, but three of them, all the same age, that's just unreal." He starts humming softly and rocking her against his shoulder. As they watch, her eyes fall closed.

"Is that a lullabye, Crowley?" Anathema chuckles. 

"Yes! I told you, I did nannying for a while." 

"Does it have words?"

"Well, I could sing them. But I don't think Lizard-Boy would like them." He makes a face. "Oh, fuck. I can't just call you Lizard-Boy anymore, I've got one of my own now."

Newt starts laughing. 

"Fuck!" Terry says again, and hides back behind Anathema's hair. 

"Yes, well done!" Crowley replies. "Do you want to learn any other words?"

"No!" They shout gleefully, and grin.


End file.
